


Weights & Measures

by bearfeathers



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Team as Family, Witness Protection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearfeathers/pseuds/bearfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of Jake and Holt's departure, Amy and Kevin find themselves with a common problem--and a common living space. </p><p>Alternatively: I just binge-watched all of B99 and need an excuse to write Amy and Kevin bonding over this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Saudade

**Author's Note:**

> So! Never written for this show before and still testing the waters here. Hopefully the characterization isn't too shaky. I'm working on it guys lol.

It begins with a phone call: the phone call that took Jake and Holt away from them.

It’s punctuated by another: the phone call that brings Kevin home.

Even from her desk, Amy can hear the professor’s raised voice—raised, controlled enough to be short of shouting—from Terry’s phone. The Sergeant is doing his best to explain just why all of Kevin’s calls to his husband’s phone have gone unanswered in the past twenty-four hours without _actually_ explaining. The situation is too delicate to risk explaining over the phone, but Terry promises answers as soon as Kevin’s plane lands. Begrudgingly, it seems, Kevin agrees to this.

Which is how Amy and the remainder of the Nine-Nine find themselves huddled together in the airport, flanked by federal agents. It’s not an ideal situation for anyone, but admittedly necessary given their foe’s reach.

Although Amy can’t claim to truly know Kevin, she feels she knows his exact thoughts as she spots him in the throng of people moving towards them. It appears he’s skipped straight past the baggage claim, his gait short of a jog but decidedly hurried. As he finally nears them, the words leave his mouth before he can even come to a full stop.

“Sergeant Jeffords, is Raymond—“

“Captain Holt is fine,” Terry says, cutting him off gently. “He can’t be here, but he’s not injured or in harm’s way at the moment.”

There’s a half a second where Kevin doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself before he gropes blindly for the wall, using it to steady himself. Amy catalogues the dark circles beneath his eyes—which are pressed closed in an obvious attempt to ground himself—as well as the weary sigh that escapes him and his pale complexion. It all speaks of sleepless, worried nights just now catching up to him which she sees, yes, but _feels_ more than anything. Feels because it mirrors her own exhaustion in its causes and manifestations so precisely. But a split second later, all emotion is quietly and efficiently tucked away, replaced once more by his usual professional demeanor.

“You said ‘at the moment,’” Kevin exclaims. “What precisely did you mean by that?”

There’s a ripple of discomfort felt through the squad.

“That’s actually part of the reason Sarge couldn’t explain over the phone,” Amy informs him. “We’ll be able to discuss it in detail once we’re on the road.”

“I still think we should do this in Rosa’s panic room,” Charles declares.

“I already told you, I moved,” Rosa says.

“Oh, and you expect me to believe you don't have a panic room in your new digs?”

“I don’t.”

Terry eyeballs the group as if to ask whether they’re finished. Rosa shrugs.

“I have a fallout shelter,” she says.

“Boyle, before you ask, no, we are not going to have this discussion inside Rosa’s fallout shelter,” Terry says, his expression telling Amy he’s in danger of breaking a glass door upon their exit. “Now let’s help Dr. Cozner with his bags and get this show on the road already.”

* * *

Kevin takes the explanation for Holt’s whereabouts in stride, Amy thinks. His shoulders droop marginally and a frown creeps its way onto his brow, but that is the extent of any outward show of emotion through the telling of the tale. That is, apart from one thing. Once Terry explains that both Holt and Jake have been placed in Witness Protection, Amy suddenly finds Terry is no longer the one Kevin is looking at. The moment Jake’s name leaves Terry’s lips, Kevin’s gaze latches onto her. It’s only for a few, brief moments, but she swears something unspoken passes between them. Something in the way he looks at her speaks of an understanding that, in their own way, they’re in this together.

After six months away from his husband, Amy expects the news that he will be separated from Holt indefinitely to be greeted by Kevin rather poorly. Instead, there are approximately ten seconds of silence as the professor digests this news and comes to terms with the situation at hand before he looks up, shoulders squared.

“Very well. Now, what are we going to do about it?”

No one’s quite sure how to bring this up.

“Well… _we’re_ going to be working the case. Because we’re the police. Detectives. Police detectives who investigate crime,” Charles initiates awkwardly. “ _You’re_ …”

“Not going to sit idly by and do nothing to contribute,” Kevin says stiffly. He sighs, touching his fingertips to his temple. “Listen to me; using a double negative. I apologize. This news has me somewhat flustered.”

“Understandably,” Terry says, still trying to handle this matter as gently as possible. “And while I understand you’d like to like to help, this really is a matter for the NYPD and the FBI.”

Amy watches Kevin rub his palms together, his lips pressed into a thin, unhappy line. “I realize that I am not… one of you. I have no authority in this matter. Or any legal matter. However, I would be remiss if I didn’t offer my assistance in any way it may be needed. If there is anything I can do that may help in some way, no matter how small, to bring my Raymond and Detective Peralta home, then I want it understood that you needn’t hesitate to ask.”

“You won’t be kept out of the loop,” Amy promises him, speaking up at last. “Whatever direction we’re facing, whatever leads we’re chasing, I’ll keep you so updated you’ll think you’d been in the briefing room with us.”

Kevin’s answering smile is small, but genuine, if Amy is reading him right. “Thank you, Detective Santiago. I understand this must be very difficult for you as well.”

“Mmmmm,” Gina hums disapprovingly as she types away on her phone. “You might wanna try calling her ‘Amy’ now, considering y’all gonna be roomies.”

“I’m sorry?” Kevin says, eyebrows rising nearly to his hairline.

“That’s the other thing,” Terry says slowly. “Since Jake and Captain Holt are the ones being targeted, we have to assume that Figgis is willing to use the people closest to them in order to draw them out. Which means we can’t allow either of you to return to your homes.”

“…I see,” Kevin says at length. “Which means Detective Santiago—Amy—and I will be sharing rooms elsewhere.”

“The FBI’s selected a secure location where both of you can be monitored,” Terry explains. “Your commute might be a little longer and you might notice some guys in suits and sunglasses tailing you, but it’s the best we can do for the time being.”

Again, Amy is surprised by how Kevin seems to take this news in stride. Rather than debate the issue or waste time being put out by it, he simply proceeds to his next train of thought.

“I’ll have to make arrangements for Cheddar,” he declares. His gaze finds her again. “As I recall, you have quite the severe dog allergy.”

“You remembered,” Amy says, telling herself not to read too far into it.

“Well, Raymond and I _did_ find you barricaded in our bathroom and sneezing rather violently, once upon a time,” Kevin says, the corners of his lips twitching. “Something of that nature tends to leave a lasting impression.”

“Yeah. That did happen, didn’t it?” Amy asks, doing her best not to remember and failing miserably.

Kevin ducks his head in acknowledgement. “In any case, I… appreciate the lengths which all of you have gone to treat this matter delicately. Raymond has always had the utmost faith in your abilities. I trust him and his judgement, which is why I’m confident that you will bring this case to a successful conclusion.”

It’s a ‘thank you’ in his own way, Amy thinks.

The rest of the ride is made in silence. Staring out the window, Amy can’t help but wonder what the future holds in store for all of them. It was one thing when it was just trying to figure out her relationship with Jake. Now she has to wonder when she’ll even see him again. Or _talk_ to him. Though she’s sure Kevin’s not nearly as amenable to the situation as he seems, Amy can’t help but find herself glad that they’ll be cohabitating. The thought of returning to her apartment or Jake’s or the sight of that stupidly empty new bed makes her feel so…

She swallows thickly. No. She can do this. She’s Detective Amy Santiago of the Nine-Nine. And if Figgis thinks he’s getting out of this without having to deal with her personally, he’s got another thing coming to him.

Or… he will.

Once they actually figure out who he is.

Or where he is.

Or what he looks like.

…

Dammit.


	2. It was love that laid us low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy and Kevin unpack their belongings--as well as a few thoughts--as they move into their safe house.

What everyone had failed to mention, Kevin finds, is that the apartment he is to share with Amy is right beside that of one Rosa Diaz. He supposes it makes sense that someone is in close proximity to them, given the circumstances, but it seems as though every time he turns around there’s some new, unexpected intrusion into his life. It’s not that he’s ungrateful, merely that this is all a bit…

“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” Amy asks him.

Kevin looks up from the box of personal items cradled in his arms. “I was just thinking something very nearly along those lines.”

Amy nods and opens her mouth as though to say something else. Instead she pauses, appears to think better of it and offers him something of a strained smile before looking back into the box she’s kneeling before. It doesn’t escape his notice that she goes about unpacking and organizing her things in a decidedly lackluster fashion. One would assume Amy Santiago would jump at the chance to organize anything—and they would be right—which is what makes this display all the more worrisome.

Thinking that the failed attempt at conversation has concluded, he moves to continue his journey to the next room, only to be stopped by Amy’s voice.

“I know this sucks for you.”

The sudden declaration—made at a much louder volume than intended, judging by the bright red tinge to the detective’s cheeks—halts him in his tracks. He cocks his head to the side curiously, waiting for her to elaborate.

“What I mean is… I know this is hard. I know that I’m probably one of the last people that you want to be cooped up with for god only knows how long,” Amy says, at a much more manageable volume. “But I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure this doesn’t have to last any longer than it needs to.”

He isn’t really in the mood for conversation tonight. Six months away hadn’t seemed nearly as terrible when he knew he’d be coming home at the end of it. Except now he isn’t. And that dull, melancholic ache he’d felt in Paris seems trifling when compared to what he feels now. He misses his home. He misses Cheddar. He misses his routine.

He misses Raymond. He misses the subtle weight of him in the bed beside him. He misses the clean smell of his aftershave. He misses his charming sense of humor.

But, Kevin reminds himself, he’s not the only one missing someone. True, Amy and Jake haven’t been together for an exceptionally long period of time, but there is something about the circumstances of their relationship that strikes a chord with him. It’s in the feeling of _waiting._ And of _now, finally_. It’s in the build-up and the anticipation and the longing, all boiled down into one sudden drop of disappointment. It’s in the _but not yet_.

Kevin sits in the armchair closest to him—not _his_ armchair—and settles the box of his belongings in his lap.

“There are far worse people to share rooms with,” he begins. His lips twitch faintly as he can’t help but say, “And on that front I must commend you for lasting this long with Peralta.”

This earns him a somewhat teary laugh as Amy nods her head, a flicker of a smile crossing her features as she acknowledges the joke.

“I don’t find your company distasteful, much as I have done these past few years to lead you to believe the opposite,” he admits. “I find this _situation_ distasteful, yes, but I’m well aware that I’m not the only one whom it is effecting. If I am… _unhappy_ here, it is not because of you.”

His fingers creep towards his wedding band. He hadn’t wished for conversation, but he finds the words coming to him regardless.

“I miss my husband,” he says. He twists the band on his finger, his thumb brushing against smooth metal warmed by his own skin. “Regardless of the steps taken to ensure my safety, I’m far more concerned for his safety than my own. In the time we’ve been together I’ve seen him shot, stabbed, beaten… I’ve been with him for broken bones and death threats and any number of other terrible things. Yet the common thread is that I have always been _with him_ for those things. With this…”

He can’t be with Raymond. How many times had he worried, fretted, over those other things? How many times had Raymond assured him that he was overreacting? How many times had Kevin angrily insisted that it wasn’t overreacting to _worry_ about him? And how many times had they talked, after, late into the night, about the things which frightened Kevin and the things that Raymond refused to admit he was frightened by? There is no chance for that now.

“I imagine it’s just as you miss Jake,” Kevin says.

“It’s not… I mean, yeah. I do. I really do. I miss him more than anything. But you and the captain that’s… different,” Amy says haltingly.

“Yes. It’s different,” Kevin muses. He frowns. “But one does not outweigh the other.”

Amy doesn’t seem to agree. Or at the very least, she doesn’t seem to believe him. “Really? You think that?”

He clears his throat. “I’ve never been in the habit of comparing relationships.”

“Oh. No. Of course not,” Amy says quickly. The personal items in the box before her may as well be a million miles away as she studies him carefully, not unlike the way some of his students do. “I’m just surprised that you’d say that. You don’t even _like_ Jake. Or… cops in general. It seems funny that you’d put our relationship on the same level as yours.”

There is so very much he _could_ say in response to that. Just as many things that he probably _should_ say. But not tonight. No, that’s a conversation he’s much too exhausted to engage in at present.

“My account of your office romance may come secondhand, but even that is enough to tell me this is no dalliance—on either part,” he says, rising from his seat. “To imply what you have is inferior simply for lack of time would be an insult to all four of us.”

He can tell he’s caught her off guard with the admission, but—if he’s reading her correctly—not in an entirely terrible way. Still, he finds the short exchange has taken more out of him than it has any right to, so her silence may be for the better.

“In any case, I really ought to finish unpacking before retiring for the evening,” he says with a polite nod of his head. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Amy answers, with a small smile. “And… thanks. For everything you just said. It’s weird, but I feel like I really needed to hear that just now.”

Really, Kevin thinks, he should be the one thanking her. For a great many things. But emotional weariness and physical exhaustion win out, wringing a quiet “You’re welcome” from him and nothing more.


End file.
